A Study in Reunions
by warrior of the nile
Summary: When John comes home one day to find a stranger in the room, his only hope is that this client has an interesting case so that Sherlock stops driving everyone mad. But it turns out to be much better than that: a reunion for two people that should have happened long ago and a new friendship is born. John is perfectly fine with it. (now with one shot sequels, see a/n ch2 4 info)
1. Reunions

So, this is an impulse story. I had absolutely no plans, no plot for it. I just sat down and wrote. I wanted to write a story with Victor Trevor in it, so I did. If this seems like a pointless ball of hurt/comfort/fluff, that's why. Because it is.

And yes, yes the title is extremely corny. Thank you for noticing. I couldn't think of anything better.

* * *

A Study in Reunions

* * *

John comes home to find a man sitting in his chair, reading a book. He stops, not expecting the intrusion since Mrs Hudson hadn't said anything. And she usually didn't let clients wait in the flat for them. But then again, she probably thought it was alright. She is an excellent judge of character.

"Oh hello," the man says, looking up, "John Watson I presume?" He smiles, somewhat nervously. He has shaggy chocolate hair and warm brown eyes. His skin was tan, obviously not something a person is going to get in London. If John had to describe him, he would call him cute or even almost adorable, not handsome or any of the other more appropriate terms.

"Yes, that would be me. I assume you are waiting on Sherlock?"

"Oh, ummm, yes."

"Can I get you anything? A cup of tea perhaps? Something to calm the nerves before Sherlock bursts through the doors. He shouldn't be long. I warn you though, he's been in a right mood lately. Don't be surprised if he's a bit... well, rude." John tells him. He has taken it upon himself to warn the clients before hand if he could. Especially if Sherlock hadn't had a case in a week or two. Which he hadn't.

The man gives a quick laugh. "Isn't that normal for him?"

John laughs in return. "Yes, but he's been worse than usual lately."

"Oh dear, must be bad then."

"You have no idea."

"Probably only somewhat. I keep up with your blog – it's quite good, by the way – but I imagine that is only the tip of the iceberg, so to speak."

"Something like that." He hands him the mug. "Here you go." He sits down in Sherlock's chair. "Mr–"

"Oh, I'm sorry, how rude of me. I'm Victor Trevor. Pleasure to meet you."

"Mr Trevor then."

"No. Just Victor please. Mr Trevor reminds me a little too much of my Father." A dark look flashes over his face before disappearing again. "Sherlock doesn't have anything on then?"

John wonders at the seemingly familiarity the man uses. Most people use Mr Holmes before Sherlock corrects them. He hopes this isn't another person from Sherlock's past. He already has enough of an introduction when he met Sebastian. Prick. "No, fortunately for you. Although unfortunately for the rest of us. Frankly I hope you have something interesting or the next case will be the mysterious murder of Sherlock Holmes. The mystery will be who gets to him first," John grins.

Victor laughs. "I am sure it less humorous to those who have to put up with it, but I must say from my point of view, it sounds very entertaining."

And the seals it. "You know him, don't you?"

"I–"

Sherlock picks that moment to walk through the door. "John are the–" He stops when he sees Victor.

"Hello Mr Holmes," he says, foregoing the familiarity he had moments before. "I was wondering if you might help me."

Sherlock stares at the man intently. "And just what are you hoping for?" he asks instead of deducing.

Victor smiles, both sheepishly and very nervously. "I was hoping if you might know where my best friend is? I seem to have lost him quite some time ago. Years ago in fact."

Sherlock opens his mouth to reply.

"Of course," he continues quickly, "it was my own fault. A family tragedy happen and I ran when I should have stayed. I left him to fend for himself when I promised I would always be there for him. I wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to see me again. But I would like the chance to apologize. It was... well, an extremely dick move on my part. I would say I was young and stupid, but well, that's not really an excuse, is it? Not when it took me this long to return. I would also ask if you could find my head, but I finally managed to pull it out of my arse myself."

Sherlock continues to stare, not even blinking.

Victor fidgets. "So yes, that. I fully understand if you can't help me. I know how busy you are with other cases and with Doctor Watson. I've read all of your cases and think it's great that you invented your own profession with your deduction skills. They always were something. But, yes. If you can't, I will hold nothing against you." He falls silent then, returning the detective's stare.

After a few more moments Victor nods and stands. "Right. I'll be going then. It was nice meeting you Doctor Watson. I'll see–"

"Vic."

That soft word from Sherlock is enough to freeze the other man. "Lock?" he returns, just as softly.

"Don't..." He walks over to stand in front of him. "Don't go. Not again."

All of the tension in Victor's shoulders dissolves. "No, not again," he agrees.

Sherlock finally makes a definite move then, pulling him into a tight hug. "Never again," he whispers into the shorter man's shoulder.

Victor gives a choked laugh. "Good to have you back Lock."

"Yes."

They stand there for a long moment, hugging each other like they will never let go again while John watches them. Victor Trevor. The name still doesn't mean anything to John. But that's not a surprise. Sherlock talks about his past so rarely it would be more surprising if John _did_ know the name. At least this one acts less like a prick than 'Seb'. John still regrets not punching that wanker when he had the chance.

He takes another sip of his tea, content to let them have their moment. Sherlock has such few friends in his life. Especially ones that he will openly demonstrate affection for. As long as Victor doesn't try to move any farther than friends, John has no worry about the two them. But if he does... Yes, he can be a bit possessive sometimes. And Sherlock bloody well enjoys it too, the nutter.

Although from his speech, John wonders if he will have to have a word about hurting Sherlock again. Probably not though. Not from the way Victor seems to be clinging to his partner. This one seems to be a keeper. Good.

When they pull away, Victor sees John looking at them and blushes. "Sorry Doctor Watson, I didn't mean–"

"John please," he interrupts. "And it's fine. Just as long as you have no plans on snogging my partner, cuddle all you want. Gives this one someone else to bother."

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Really John, I've never heard you complaining before."

John smiles much too fondly and inquires, "Oh really? Then you didn't hear me threatening to tie you down to the bed and leave you there this morning? Or the threat of strangulation last night? I was so sure you did. My mistake."

"Humph."

Victor laughs. "Don't worry John, I have no intentions of stealing him. Even if I did, I'd probably give him back by the end of the day."

Sherlock pulls away and goes to dramatically pout on the couch. "I am not that bad."

"Oh, you've become less of a handful, have you? Because I distinctly remember resorting to those same threats. Although I believe you would have had much less fun if I would have tied you to the bed than John does," he adds with a smirk.

"Humph," Sherlock repeats and turns over, away from them.

"Having fun love?" John can't help but ask.

Sherlock covers his head with the union jack pillow.

"That's a yes," Victor informs him with a smile.

John returns the smile, thoroughly enjoying himself. He always likes teasing the detective occasionally. Having someone join in, who cares for the man as well, makes it even more enjoyable. Not that he thinks everything is automatically prefect between those two. But it is well on the way. And Sherlock could use someone to fill the best mate slot since John moved up to partner.

Victor sighs. "I should leave now. It's about supper time and I don't want to overstay my welcome."

Sherlock abruptly sits up and stares at Victor. "You promised," he accuses.

"Lock, I'm just going back to my hotel for the night. I'll be back."

Sherlock looks at him analytically. "You arrived from India two days ago. You have no plans on returning. The hotel is obviously a temporary arrangement. In fact you are planning on staying in London. Perhaps opening a... cafe? No a bookstore _and_ cafe. You will need the funds, which you obviously already have, a location and a flat. I happen to know a building nearby that would fit your needs. Furthermore, we have an empty bedroom upstairs that is no longer in use."

Victor stares and John shakes his head. At least he isn't as possessive as Sherlock. Man can be a bloody menace when he claims something or someone as his. And Victor is obviously back on the list.

"Also, don't listen to Mycroft. His opinion doesn't matter."

That startles a laugh out of the other man. "Lock when have I ever listened to Mycroft? Besides that first time I took that bribe to spy on you."

Sherlock grins. "Yes, the look on his face when you handed him that first report."

"And realized you wrote it yourself."

"And deduced what we spent his money on."

Victor has to hold his side from laughing so hard.

"Dare I ask?" John questions, looking between the two.

Both Sherlock and Victor smirk. "My first motorbike," Sherlock answers. "He always managed to restrict my funds enough to stop me before then. But since Victor technically bought it," Sherlock shrugs and attempts to look innocent, "I just happened to borrow it."

"All the time," Victor continues, also trying to look innocent, "Since you conveniently had your licenses for it. A mere coincidence."

John snorts. "Oh god, I can only imagine his face."

"Better yet, no need to imagine. I have pictures," Victor confesses.

John's snort turns into a laugh. "Oh my god, there are two of you now, aren't there."

"I rather think I'm the third now. I believe you took my place as second, from the sound of it. I'm good at reading between the lines when it comes to this one." He motions to the detective. Then he sighs. "That also means I know you're scared Lock. But I have no plans on disappearing again. And you can't just invite me to move in without talking to John about it first."

Sherlock gets up and hugs him. "Don't want you to go," he says into his hair.

John's heart gives a wrench at Sherlock's tone of voice. "Stay the night at least. We can talk about it tomorrow. I'm not completely against it. Especially since I know how possessive Sherlock can be sometimes. And how impulsive. Give it a week maybe."

"Really?"

"You make him happy. Really."

Victor gives him a smile. "Thank you."

John returns the smile. "Right. Food next. And you will be eating. You aren't on a case and you didn't eat yesterday."

"Angelo's?"

Victor nods.

"Sounds perfect," John answers, "let's go."


	2. Protection

So apparently my muse really likes me lately. Because I was not planning on expanding this. At all. I barely planned the last chapter. But my muse insisted, so here it is.

 **All chapters are one shots.** On my archive account, I am making this into a series. But since doing a series is a pain on fanfiction, I am adding all further sequels to the original story. They do need to be read in order and they are a continuation of one another, but they are written as separate one shots, not stories. I'm stressing this because they sound too choppy if read as a normal story.

I am also keeping this marked as completed because I don't know how many stories are going to be in this series. I have a few more written after this one, but nothing more _actually_ planned. Another reason I am stressing one shots. No cliffhangers here. Promise.

* * *

summary: Victor gets dragged to a crime scene by Sherlock and meets the officers there. Or, more accurately, he has the dubious pleasure of meeting Sally and Anderson. And sees how they treat his best friend, which is just not on. They probably shouldn't have called Sherlock a 'Freak' where he could hear them. That was their first mistake.

* * *

A Study in Protection

* * *

"John, Victor! Lestrade just text. We have a case. Come on," Sherlock shouts excitedly from the kitchen.

Both John and Victor raise their heads and look at the detective from the other room. Victor had been reading and John had been updating his blog. Now John smiles in relief. It had been three days since Victor had arrived and while he _did_ distract Sherlock, the man was still being insufferable. A case is just what he needed. He gets up. "Yes, yes, patience Sherlock, the case won't run away from you."

Victor nods and gives a small smile. "Have fun," he tells them.

Sherlock looks at him, just looks, while he slips on his coat. "Of course we will. You're coming as well," he informs him in a matter of fact tone of voice.

"Lock?" Victor looks confused.

The detective rolls his eyes. "Yes you are, now come on. The case doesn't have to run away, Anderson can contaminate it instead. He always does." He leaves, coat swirling dramatically after him. "Come on!" he shouts from the stairs.

John laughs. "Better just give in," he advises, "There's no changing his mind once it's set on something."

Victor gets up and puts his coat on, following John out the door. "Oh, I know that. But I don't understand why he is set on me coming in the first place. It's not as if I can be of much use to him. His deductions are fascinating, but I can never keep up. Never have."

"He likes an appreciative audience," John answers with a fond smile, "Besides, are you honestly surprised? The man had to accompany you to your hotel to get your things. Why wouldn't he drag you to a case with him?"

"Wishful thinking I suppose."

Sherlock has already hailed a cab by time they exit the building. The three of them slide in and Sherlock tells the cabbie the address. He is practically vibrating with excitement. His leg bounces as the streets pass by and he fiddles with his mobile.

John lays a hand on his leg. "This is a good one I assume?"

"It should be at least a seven, John. A seven! A triple homicide with no evident cause of death."

The cabbie gives them a cautious look from the mirror at his excited tone. John meets his eyes and the man raises an eyebrow. John shrugs in return. Victor covers his mouth to hide his smile.

"Sounds fun, but please remember not to be quite so visibly excited when we arrive, yeah? You know it never goes well."

Sherlock waves him off. "They talk no matter what I do. Sally has been accusing me of being the murderer for years. As if they would find the bodies if I did," he snorts in derision.

Now the cabbie turns pale.

John sighs and Victor outright laughs.

Sherlock looks offended. "They wouldn't," he tells them.

"You know I believe you," John reassures him, "but might I remind you what that sounds like to other people? They tend to take it the wrong way."

Victor turns to the other two men. "Should I be worried? This is a _detective_ accusing you of being a murderer?"

"Sergeant Sally Donovan," Sherlock snorts, "We have never seen eye to eye."

" _That's_ an understatement," John says drily, "The first time I went with Sherlock to a case, she regularly addressed him as 'Freak' and he told the surrounding officers about her affair with Anderson. It didn't get better from there. Not that I blame him," he adds thoughtfully.

"Please, as if their affair was a new thing. That information surprised no one at all. And she has always called me that, since the start."

Victor's face tightens with displeasure. "Does she now?" he asks calmly. Too calmly.

Sherlock nods, not catching it, his mind on the case. John, though, does and gives him a nod. Good, maybe between the two of them they can get her to stop. As long as they don't get arrested for assaulting an officer, that is.

They arrive at the crime scene and John pays a very relieved cabbie, glad to be rid of them. John has long resigned himself to this. "Ta," he thanks, wondering how there isn't a memo about Sherlock among them. With how many cabs they take, someone should have by now. Maybe he is new.

Fortunately when they enter the building, it is Lestrade that greets them. Neither Sally nor Anderson are in sight. So far so good. John really doesn't want to deal with them today. And Victor probably shouldn't, judging by the look on his face. Apparently protectiveness is a trait all three of them share.

"John, Sherlock," Lestrade greets. "And who is this?"

Victor holds out a hand. "Victor Trevor," he grins, "I apologize, but it was Sherlock's idea. If I didn't come of my free will, he would have dragged me here by my collar."

Lestrade sighs and shakes his hand. "DI Lestrade. Not your fault," he assures, "but he has to stop bringing people with him. Technically he shouldn't even be here half the time."

A snort comes from behind the DI. "Oh look, the Freak has dragged another poor sod with him. And he's now resorting to violence to collect 'em too."

Sally. Wonderful. Anderson comes up beside her and sneers. "Here to infect another crime scene? We are doing just fine without you here."

"You have found a cause of death then?" Sherlock raises an inquiring eyebrow at the two.

"No," Anderson admits sulkily, "But we will. We don't need help from the likes of _you_."

Even more wonderful. It's going to be one of _those_ days.

"Well then, it sounds like you need my help after all. Now, if you excuse me," he pushes past them, John and Victor following.

Sherlock starts examining the first body as John joins him. Victor stands back, shoulders tense, but with a small smile of his face. He leans against the wall, careful not to touch anything that could be important. Sherlock is in his element, talking to himself and John in a quiet voice.

"So what's your story?" Sally asks, coming to stand next to him.

"I beg your pardon?" he answers coldly, raising an eyebrow in an eerily similar way to Sherlock.

Sally ignores his tone. "Your story. You must have some reason to be with the Freak. He has already deluded one poor sod. I hate to see him fool another."

Victor crosses his arms. "I believe my story is none of your business and I would thank you not to inquire of it. As for why I am with 'the Freak', as you so crudely put it, it is also none of your business. But since you asked so kindly, I'll tell you. It's because I want to be with him."

"Why?" Sally asks, as if it is the most impossible idea on the face of the planet.

"Again, it is none of your business. Personally I find it alarming that an officer of the law sees fit to treat a civilian in this manner. Especially one who is voluntarily doing your job for you."

"He is not doing my job. I am perfectly able to do it myself, without his interference. His unasked for interference. And-"

"Funny," he interrupts, "I believe Lock said that your DI text him and asked him to come. My mistake. We must have come here coincidentally. Or maybe he used his superpowers to come here and annoy you?" he adds sweetly.

"Lock?" she repeats incredulously, "you call the Freak 'Lock'?"

"Yes. Because he is my friend. And as his friend, I do not appreciate hearing him called such things. I would ask you to stop, but obviously that has no effect, as I am sure John has done the same. So if I keep hearing it, I will be filing an official complaint."

She snorts.

"And I will be filing it with his brother, not DI Lestrade. I assume you know of his brother?"

Sally shivers.

"Oh, I see you do. Excellent. And I assure you, he will take this personally. He is _very_ protective of his little brother. I should know, I have been on the other end of his threats as well."

Ignoring all common sense, "And yet you still are with him?"

"Yes. I deserved it." He turns his gaze back to Sherlock in a clear dismissal.

Sally huffs, but walks away. Good. Hopefully that works. Or Mycroft will be involved. Victor may have abandoned Sherlock, but he has always cared for him. It is not the detective's fault he ran.

John looks over when he hears the huff. He had been half listening to their conversation with a satisfied feeling. Maybe Sally will listen when she sees it is not just him who cares for the detective. And she can't accuse Victor of being blind because of a convenient shag. Unless she thinks all three of them are involved. He wouldn't put it past her.

"John, what do you make of this?" Sherlock asks and John turns his attention fully on the body below him.

Victor smiles at the two. He can see how well they fit together. He hopes he can find his place with them as well. Sherlock may want him to move in with them, but that does not guarantee anything yet. But he hopes none the less. He misses their easy friendship from years ago.

"Yes! Of course, it is so obvious, how could you not see it?" Sherlock exclaims and rushes off.

John stands up more slowly, looking at where Sherlock disappeared fondly. He clasps Victor on the shoulder. "Time for the reveal," he jokes.

They walk outside to find Sherlock already explaining everything to Lestrade. The two men go and stand beside him to listen to the explanation and praise the detective. Sherlock preens under their attention. It is adorable, really.

Anderson crosses his arms, clearly pouting. "I could have figured it out," he informs the general area.

Victor raises a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

"I could," he directs his focus to Victor. "I don't need this Freak to do my job for me."

Victor clenches his fists. "I have already kindly asked Sergeant Donovan not to call him that. I ask you to do the same. I also might remind you that Lock is human and has feelings just like the rest of us, despite what you seem to think."

"He's a psychopath!"

"He's my best friend!"

By now they have drawn the attention of the crowd.

"How can you be friends with _him_? He's more likely to murder you in his sleep than care about you."

Victor sees red. John wisely turns, extremely furious, but ready to restrain Victor if he decides to attack the other man. No matter how much he might want to himself.

"How dare you," Victor growls, "How dare you say something like that. You don't know him. You don't know anything. Sherlock has been the best friend I have ever had. Don't you dare tell me he doesn't care. I know very well he does."

"If your his friend, where have you been? I haven't exactly seen you around. Did you leave? Good decision there, but why would you come back if you escaped him once?"

John grabs Victor as he lunges towards Anderson. He holds him back with a grunt. "You pompous, arrogant, stupid, bloody moron of a bastard cock! You want to know why I haven't been around? You want to know why I ran? Because my Father had just tried to kill my best friend when he accidentally uncovered his past dealings with the Mafia. That was before, of course, he became completely unhinged and tried to kill us both! Forgive me for being distressed that I had to kill my own Father to protect us. So sorry that I was young and frightened and, after it was ruled as self-defense, I ran. I abandoned my best friend because I couldn't handle it. It never had anything to do with him. So keep your bloody mouth shut about things you don't understand? Got it?"

Anderson gives a shaky nods and flees. The rest of the officers are silent.

John releases his hold, but still stands close enough to let their shoulder brush in silent comfort.

Sherlock comes over and wraps an arm around him on the other side. "Let's go home," he says gently.

Victor nods.

No one stops them as they leave.


	3. Conversations

summary: It has been a week since Victor came back into Sherlock's life and it is time to have that conversation about Victor's living arrangements. But first, another conversation has to happen. One about why Victor left to begin with.

* * *

A Study in Conversation

* * *

The three of them are all eating lunch on a miraculously clean kitchen table when John brings it up. He figures it's time. It has been a week after all and John can't see the conversation lasting long. He opens his mouth and-

"Yes John, I agree," Sherlock interrupts before he can even begin, "It's time for you to officially move in, Vic."

Victor looks startled. "I thought-"

"Oh John is fine with it. He was going to ask, but there's no need. It's obvious. Now you are going to need to buy some new things, clothes being an essentials, but also..." He continues to talk as the other two men look at each other in fond exasperation.

"...as well as looking at-"

"Lock," Victor stops him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes of course, why would you ask such a stupid question?"

"Because as much as I want to forget the past and move on, I can't. And neither can you. I know exactly what you are doing. We are going to have to talk about it. Better now when I can easily give you some distance than after I move in. Also, it would be nice to get a verbal confirmation out of John that he is alright with this. You're being a bit heavy handed right now."

Sherlock crosses his arms in a defensive position. "I am not. It doesn't matter now, it's fine."

Victor raises an eyebrow. "Oh? So you're suddenly alright with what happen? That's interesting because I could have sworn you were pissed at me last week."

"No, I was happy to see you."

"Yes you were. But not at first. Come Lock, I don't want to drag it out any more than you. You can't play cold-hearted bastard with me. I know better. We were friends for three years before everything fell apart. I know you."

"No."

Victor sighs. "You are allowed to be both. And we both know I deserve it. It's my fault-"

"Stop saying that!" Sherlock shouts, "Will you stop saying that when we both know it isn't true?"

Victor's brow furrows. "What do you mean? Of course it's my-"

"No. No it isn't. Stop saying that. It clearly isn't your fault. It has never been your fault, it's mine."

"What? No it isn't."

"If I hadn't deduced your Father's past-"

"You couldn't help it. I may not understand your deductions, but I do understand that you can't help making them. It is an automatic process. And your brain to mouth filter is always shite so-"

"Exactly. It's my fault."

"Will _you_ stop saying that. It isn't and it's stupid for you to blame yourself."

"It is a perfectly logical-"

"Logical my arse, it's-"

"No it isn't, it's-"

"Stop it, no it-"

"Yes it-"

"No it-"

"Yes-"

"No-"

"Y-"

"Enough!" John shouts. "Both of you be quiet. This isn't getting you anywhere. If we are going to do this, we are going to do it in a civilized manner. Which means taking turns, not shouting at each other and for Christ sake, use some different words. I hear the word 'fault' one more time and I am making each of you stand in a corner and think about what you are saying. Is that clear?"

Both men nod.

"Good. Now we are going to take turns speaking. Victor first. Please state your case."

"Right. Lock it isn't your fau-" he clears his throat. "You are not to blame for this. I never have blamed you and frankly I'm shocked that you do. Maybe I shouldn't be, but I am. I have always known that I am the cause of all of this. I've known for years. That's one of the reasons it took me so long to come back. I wasn't sure if you would even want to see me again. You _do_ remember it was _my_ Father who tried to kill you?"

"Sherlock," John says.

"Of course I remember. What a stupid question. But your Father wouldn't of had a reason to attack _both of us_ if I had been able to keep my mouth shut about his past. And you were forced to kill your own Father because of me. It would be natural if you were to blame me. None of this would have happened if I had never met him."

"True, but it was inevitable Lock. The only way you would have never have met my Father is if the two of us never became friends. And I have never regretted that. Not a day in my life. Even when I ran, I never regretted meeting you. I regretted the circumstances, but never becoming your friend. Surely you must know you are the best thing that has ever happened to me?"

"Likewise. Until John that it. Vic, you were my first friend and I chased you away because I couldn't keep my mouth shut."

"Tell me something Lock. You remember that you didn't volunteer to deduce my Father right away. You did your initial scan and then you stopped. It was Father who asked for more. _He_ was the one who wanted to hear about your skill."

Sherlock nods.

"And when you first started deducing, did you know? Or did you just start talking?"

"The latter," the detective admits.

"And is that a normal response? My Father went berserk and tried to bash your head in with a fire poker. And when I defended you, he went after me next. Tell me, because you have much more experience with this type of thing now then you did then, is that a normal response? Is it a sane one?"

Sherlock shakes his head.

"My Father had been slowly losing his sanity from guilt for a long time. The only thing you did was add a catalyst to the situation. Which, I repeat, my Father asked for. Lord knows why. If he wanted to hide it, it wasn't exactly a very smart move on his part, now was it?"

"Still, I should have known better. You were always warning me to be careful about what I deduced. You said I shouldn't blurt everything out, all at once. That I should stop and process what I was saying. That one day it would get me into trouble. And you were right."

"Sherlock," Victor sighs, "that wasn't me scolding you. That was me trying to protect you. I was tired of the guys taking a piss on you because you always announced their secrets in a very public setting. I was afraid they would go after you. If I remember correctly, some did."

"Minor detail."

"That minor detail earned you a black eye and two cracked ribs. I didn't give a flying fuck if you used their secrets against them. They were all pricks, they deserved it. But I was more in favor of blackmail, not public humiliation. Much more useful."

"You did that anyways."

Victor smirks. "Yes I did. Worked wonders, it did." Then he sigh. "Lock, I am so sorry you thought I blamed you for all these years. I would have written if I had known."

"Written? You mean you still would have ran?"

"Yes," Victor admits, "I'm not proud of it, but I still would have ran. I couldn't handle it at the time. I couldn't stand myself. I thought if I ran far enough I could escape myself. Obviously a foolish thought, but we both know I was never the brightest light bulb in the bunch."

"And we also both know that I hate it when you put yourself down like that. It isn't true. You are smart, just not in a way everyone understands."

"I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."

"You did."

"I know." He gets up from his chair and walks over to Sherlock. The man launches himself into his arms.

"I hated you," he sobs, "I hated you. Why did you leave me? I needed you. I was so alone after you left. The only person who ever accepted me and I drove you away. You selfish bloody bastard! I hated you. You left me alone. You promised you wouldn't abandon me, but you did. You lied. You lied to me. You were just like everyone else! No one stays and neither did you."

Victor stands there, hugging the detective close as he shouts his abuse. The only thing he does is run a hand through Sherlock's hair. Sherlock continues to rail, letting out years of anger and grief.

"I know Lock, I know. Let it out, I can take it. It's alright, it'll be alright now," he mummers softly as Sherlock clings to him.

They stand there for long minutes, soaking in each other's presence.

John feels like an intruder, watching the two of them. He turns and puts the kettle on. Tea, they are going to need tea after this. Desperately. The kettle boils before the two of them let go of each other. Both have red rimmed eyes, but John doesn't comment. "Tea?"

"Ummm, sure,"Victor answers.

Sherlock snorts. "Better get use to it. That's John's solution to everything."

"I'm English, I will make tea until I am in the grave. And besides, if I don't make it, who will? You? Not bloody likely. I would be in the grave before I got some, that way. And I would still have to make it myself."

Victor gives a soft chuckle. "Most likely," he agrees.

Sherlock buries his head back into Victor's shoulder. "Mean," he declares.

"Yes dear," John says drily. "Now drink your tea."

The detective obeys.

"Now, I assume everything is settled?"

The two men nod.

"Good. And yes Victor, I have no problem moving in. Frankly I don't want to see you go anymore than Sherlock. Despite what everyone think, I am not exactly good with people either. I only seem that way because everyone always compares me to Sherlock. It's almost impossible to seem odd when you get compared to him."

Victor nods. "That I do know. Everyone underestimates you when Lock is around."

John smirks. "And that's when the fun begins."

Victor laughs. "Oh, I see. Those are some stories I want to hear sometimes."

"Gladly."

"Good. Now that that's all settled," Sherlock says, "We need to go over what you need to move in. As said before, you are gong to need more-" And then he begins his speech all over again.

John and Victor look at each other and roll their eyes. That's their detective alright.


	4. Aftermath

summary: Lestrade finds out just who Victor Trevor is to the two boys. And the consequences of Victor's fight with Anderson.

* * *

A Study of the Aftermath

* * *

When Lestrade walks into the Baker Street flat one sunny afternoon, it is with the intention of dragging Sherlock down to the Yard to catch up on the paperwork he needs to process for the case. He had been texting the detective for the past week without success. Not that he usually gets a reply from Sherlock, but John will usually herd him down there by now. Since that hadn't happened this time, Lestrade is going to have to do it himself.

But when he walks in, he has to pause to take in the scene before him. All three of the men are home right now. John is sitting at the desk, typing on his laptop. Victor and Sherlock are on the couch. Sleeping. Together. They are wrapped around each other, limbs entwined. The phrase 'puppy pile' comes to mind. Only with two grown men instead. Both are breathing peacefully.

It takes a couple of minutes for his brain to catch up and fully appreciate the fact that he is witnessing Sherlock cuddled up to someone. Someone who isn't John, even. Said man is calmly typing, like nothing is unusual about the situation. As if his boyfriend isn't wrapped in another man's arms. Well, if he doesn't care, that's his right, but...

Still.

The whole situation is just bizarre. Which is saying something, because this is Sherlock. But the man so rarely shows physical affection. Even with John, the most he has ever seen are hugs and, once, a quick kiss on the forehead. Nothing else. It's one of the reasons it took the Met so long to realize they were together. Sherlock just isn't very affectionate.

Or at least that is what everyone assumed. Apparently is it that he is simply not affectionate in public. Because the evidence to the contrary is right in front of him. And it makes sense. Sherlock isn't one to flaunt anything other than his genius around. Certainly not his private life.

But this highlights one very important question. Just who the hell is Victor Trevor? He has been with Sherlock to a couple of more crime scenes after that first one where he blew up on Anderson. And hadn't that been interesting. Everyone has been walking on eggshells when they see him since then. You can cut the tension with a knife.

The only thing he knows about the man is what he shouted at Anderson. And that hadn't painted a very happy picture. Having to kill his Father in self-defense and than running away from the situation. Christ it sounds like a right mess. He got out of it that they are friends, but he didn't pick up how close they were. Closer than he thought, obviously.

John then notices him and motions for him to keep quiet. He gets up and walks into the kitchen. Lestrade follows.

"Hey Greg. Here for the paperwork?"

"Yeah. I get that he doesn't like doing it, but I need it for this case. It needs to be processed."

John sighs. "Sorry about that. You might want to bring it here instead. You'll have better luck."

"Oh?"

"Sherlock is boycotting the Yard. Not the cases, obviously, but anything else he refuses to have anything to do with. Haven't you noticed yet?"

"I know he refused to look at some evidence at the Yard, but I had thought that was just Sherlock being Sherlock. He didn't need it to solve the case, so I didn't think much of it. I should have?"

"Yeah, that's part of his boycott."

"Damn. I assume it's because of the fight Victor got into with Anderson?"

"Both Anderson and Sally actually."

"What the hell did Sally do?"

"The same thing as Anderson. Only she wasn't stupid enough to pick a fight with him in front of everyone. But it still didn't make a good impression."

Lestrade sighs. "Great, just what we need, more drama."

"Greg," John crosses his arms. "You seem to be under the impression that this is some small problem. It isn't. Victor threatened to bring Mycroft in-"

"Oh damn it."

"-and I plan on backing him up if needed."

Lestrade looks surprised. "You are?"

"Yes, I am. I never brought Mycroft in because I know how Sherlock feels about him meddling in his life. But I don't care anymore. I am tired of those two constantly insulting Sherlock. For one thing, it's bullying, flat out. There is no justification to it. Sherlock only retaliates when they start it. And even if he didn't, two wrongs don't make a right. For another, it is unprofessional. Sherlock is a _civilian_. Very much so. If they did this to anyone else, you know what would have happened. But because it is Sherlock, nothing is done."

"I know, but-"

"But Sherlock is just so universally hated that it makes it easier to justify?" John asks sweetly.

"Now John."

"Greg, I understand how he can be difficult. And I know you do what you can, but it isn't enough. One day those two are going to cause more trouble than we can easily get out of. What happens if, one day, a superior listens to their accusations? What then? Your hands are going to be tied and the investigation will be huge. Do you have any idea what that will do to him? Not just his reputation, but to the man himself? It will be disastrous. He needs those cases like he needs air."

"I know, I do. But 'like air'? Don't you think that is a little dramatic?"

"Not when you are the one dealing with him. I'm not just talking about shooting the walls or driving everyone crazy or a number of the things he has done. I am talking about the migraines he gets from useless information overload. The days when it is too much and he can't even bare to leave the bed. The days when the only thing he can hear is the noise in his head. It isn't pretty. I've been dealing with it, even before we got together. _I_ am the one who deals with the fallout of you cutting him off from the Yard cases. _I_ am the one who has to distract him, pull him out of his head, put him back together again. His brain is amazing, but it comes with a price. Boredom is no small thing when dealing with Sherlock. Not when it gets to that level."

"Christ, John, I had no idea."

"No you wouldn't. I shouldn't have told you this, but you need to know how serious this is. I have been trying for too long to get them to stop. If they aren't smart enough to listen to me _or_ Victor, it is time they face the consequences."

Lestrade rubs the bridge of his nose. "Alright. Give me one more chance before you call in His Majesty?"

John shrugs. "You can try, but I can guarantee he already knows."

"Right. Thanks. Any idea what will end this boycott? He can't avoid the Yard forever."

"He can try. You know he will. Right now it depends on Victor. He was extremely upset as well as insulted. And Sherlock is feeling very protective of him right now. Try talking it out with him before you say anything to Sherlock. Better yet, get some results and then tell Victor. That should help."

"Right," he pauses, "Is that why?" he motions to the couch.

John follows his motion and smiles softly. "Yeah. Cute, isn't it?"

Lestrade snorts. "That's not a word I thought I would have ever associate with Sherlock."

John smirks. "But you agree." It's not a question.

"Yes, I agree, just don't tell him that."

"No, that isn't a good idea," he laughs softly, "only Victor and I can get away with that."

"So what is going on with him exactly? They seem... close."

"You mean that they look like two puppies sleeping together? It's a good way to describe those two. Victor was his best mate before and it looks like he is going to be again."

"And you are alright with this?"

"Why shouldn't I be? Victor isn't a threat to our relationship and Sherlock needs more people in his life. If some couch cuddles come with that friend, I am fine with it. Plus Sherlock is extremely tactile. You would never know it, but he is like a cat in that regard. And Victor is just as bad. The best solution is to let those two have at it. They made sure I know that I am welcome anytime. Although that's usually when it moves to the bed. Three grown men on that couch isn't a good idea."

"Found out the hard way?" Lestrade teases.

"Yes," is John's dry reply.

"So he just comes by and steals your boyfriend for a cuddle?"

"No, mainly because he is living with us."

"He moved in with you?"

John nods. "He came back from India and needed a place to live. Sherlock refused to let him leave and I have no problem with it. We get along surprisingly well. The only person I clicked with like that is Sherlock."

"Should I expect an addition to the relationship?"

"No. Or not our romantic one, he isn't interested in that. But I can already hear the jokes. Especially if they keep this up. Which they probably will."

"You aren't feeling a bit jealous or possessive? I seem to recall one instance where-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Let's not talk about it. That was hardly my finest moment. Not that that bloke didn't deserve it after what he tried to pull, but still. You promised not to bring it up again," he accuses.

Lestrade holds up his hands. "Sorry, but it is a good example."

"No, I'm not jealous. He makes Sherlock happy, I like him and he has to be trustworthy if he had been friends with Sherlock for so long. Plus," he motions to the couch. "How could I deny that cuteness," he teases.

"Right. Well I'll leave you to it. I have some work to do. I'll be back with the paperwork tomorrow."

"Alright. Ta Greg."

"Ta." He walks out of the flat.

" 'M not cute," Sherlock protests from the couch.

John laughs.

* * *

The headache part is part my head canon and part inspired by that one scene in RDJ Sherlock Holmes movie right before Holmes meets Mary.


	5. History

Seemed like a good time to continue this story, what with Victor being dragged kicking and screaming into canon and all. Not sure how I feel about it. (Although I definitely know how I feel about ep3.) Yeah, I made too many cracks at the new season.

summary: John and Victor are alone and finally have a chance to get to know each other without Sherlock hovering. What they talk about sheds some light on those elusive uni years.

* * *

A Study in History

* * *

It is a peaceful day at 221B Baker Street. There are no gun shots, no explosions, no shouting or pacing. Just some nice peace and quiet. Mainly because Sherlock is not there of course. The detective is off to Bart's to run some experiments he hadn't been able to bring home. Bless Molly Hooper. Sherlock had described what he wanted to do and John certainly does not want that in the flat.

He is sitting in his chair, reading a book. Victor is sprawled out on the couch with a book of his own. Which is a miracle in and of itself. It has been over a month and Sherlock is just now starting to let the man out of his sight. John is glad. That means Sherlock is finally beginning to believe that Victor is here to stay. Because under all that possessiveness is fear of abandonment.

John closes his book and stretches. Yes, it is good to have a relaxing day finally. Not that he minds all the cases and chases. He loves it almost as much as Sherlock. He is an ex soldier and a bit of an adrenaline junkie. But every now and then a quiet day is just what he needs. Plus this is the first time he has been alone with Victor since he arrived. Should be interesting, one way or another.

He gets up to make himself a cup of tea. "Want a cup?" he asks Victor, not bothering to wait for a response. The man hasn't turned him down yet.

"Hmmm," Victor hums in agreement as he turns the page.

John makes it and hands a cup to the other man.

"Ta," he thanks, setting down his book. He sips at it appreciatively. John knows he picked up both new knowledge and appreciation of tea over in India. More than he already knew, in any case. Because heaven forbid an Englishman not like his tea. England might fall. Or worse, drink coffee instead.

John wonders what else he learned over there. What did he already know before? What did he study in uni? Hell, how did he and Sherlock meet? There is just so much he doesn't know about the man. He has more knowledge on how things ended than anything else. Not an ideal place to start.

"Yes?" Victor asks.

"What?" John startles out of his thoughts when Victor speaks.

"You have that look on your face."

"And what look is that?"

"Where you want to asks something, but don't know where to begin."

"I was just wondering how you and Sherlock met."

Victor laughs. "Not under the best circumstances actually, even if things turned out alright in the end."

John raises an inquiring eyebrow.

"My dog bit him."

John snorts. "What?"

Victor nods. "Toby had gotten off his leash and went right after him. He had to go have five stitches in his ankle. Thank god Toby wasn't very big."

"That is a start."

"Sure, it's funny now. But then I had an angry dog to deal with and a bloody man on top of it. I was worried. Anyone else would have made a big deal of it. Lock was more upset about having to go to the A&E than the wound itself," he chuckles. "It's ironic, rather. I had heard so much about the man before we met. As you can imagine, he didn't have the best reputation on campus."

John nods. Oh yes, that's not hard to imagine at all.

"But I went with him to the A&E, very nervous. But he didn't care. He started rattling off these facts about me and asking he got them right. Which he did of course. He was surprised I found it so fascinating. Then he started on the other people in the room and that's how we passed the time."

"That is his specialty," John agrees. "Do you know why Toby bit Sherlock?"

"Yes. It turns out Lock had been doing some anatomy practicals and Toby didn't like the smell. They got along fine after he showered. He's quite good with dogs."

That's a new one. Not that John has ever seen Sherlock with a dog to be able to figure this out. "And that's how the two of you became friends?" he asks, amused.

"Yes. Not that I ever expected to see Lock again after that. But then he showed up at the end of my last class three days later. I'm not sure what shocked me more – that he showed up or that he deduced my class schedule."

"Always expect the unexpected with Sherlock."

Victor nods. "I found that out quickly enough. Lock rather pasted himself to my side after he realized I liked him. We became rather inseparable rather quickly. No one understood, but I hardly cared about that. Bunch of wankers, the lot of them."

"I agree. I had the misfortune of meeting one of them," John tells him.

"Which one?"

"Sebastian Wilkes."

Victor cringes. "My condolences. I always hated Wilkes. He had a habit of mocking Lock one moment and treating him as a pet with a useful skill the next."

"Then I see he hasn't changed much."

"I read about that case," Victor admits, "I wanted to punch the bastard the entire time. Nothing about that man was likable and the rest of his group wasn't much better."

John nods in agreement, thinking about what Victor said. "Inseparable huh? That sounds familiar," he grins, "I was the same. God, the first time I saw that man," he trails off.

"He is quite magnificent, isn't he?"

"Yes. I was attracted to him from the first, basically."

"I completely understand."

John frowns. "The two of you never were together? It's just, since you agree," he doesn't finish, leaving it up to Victor to fill in what he wants.

"No. Or, technically, we did try. But that only lasted for a week before we decided against it. I always knew I cared deeply for him. That was never the question. It's just that I never felt any romantic attraction towards him. Or any one else for that matter. It took me years before I realized why."

"Ah," John says, understanding. Aromantic.

Victor nods. "It took a while for there even to be a name for it, so you can imagine my confusion and frustration."

And John can. Frankly this clears up a few things. Not that John doesn't think two men can't be that close without them having a reason for them not to be romantically involved. But he had been wondering. He changes the subject. "What was it like, back then?"

"Interesting is the best way to describe it," Victor answers chuckling. "Never a dull moment. Maybe cyclone is a better description. He would spend days and days running around, doing experiments, attending class, research. And then he would drop for a bit before getting back up and beginning again."

"What was he even studying?"

"Everything. Anything that he thought was interesting. He never decided on a major while I was there. He studied chemistry, anatomy, forensic, fighting, fencing, that unfortunate physics course, the even more unfortunate philosophy class."

"Fencing?" John asks as he imagines.

"Yes. He excelled at it, unsurprisingly. What was surprising was that he joined the team one year. He was the best they had. You should see the awards he received. He didn't continue the next year, called it dull, but I know he loved the sport. It was his teammates he didn't like."

"Was there anyone who didn't hate him?"

Victor sighs. "Hate is such a strong word. The majority of people were indifferent to him unless he had offended them – which was easy enough for him. There were some people who didn't mind. A few professors who took him under their wing. But Lock was never popular or well liked. He never wanted to be. He doesn't have the personality for it."

John sighs. "I know. I was just hoping..."

"You were hoping it wasn't all bad."

"Yeah."

"Oh I know all of this sounds depressing. But it wasn't all like that. We did have quite a bit of fun. Nothing traditional, sure, but we had it."

"Nothing is traditional when it comes to Sherlock," John comments.

"True words," Victor agrees. "But that would be boring."

"And we both know how Sherlock feels about that." They grin at each other. "So just what fun did the two of you have?"

"Pranks."

"Pranks?" John repeats.

Victor nods. "Oh yes. You may or may not believe it, but Lock is an accomplished prankster. What with his deduction skills and all, he makes it look terribly easy."

"I bet. That would be something to see. The two of you were probably the terrors of the campus."

"Indeed," Victor smirks, "not everyone knew it was us – the majority didn't. Most of it was just rumors. They called us the Deadly Duo of all things. Terribly dramatic."

"And I'm sure you never deserved it either."

"Of course not my good man. What do you take me for?"

"Sherlock's best mate."

"True," he admits, "funny how that position is so underestimated. As if just an old sod can handle him."

"Horribly naive of them. It's amusing to watch."

"Yes it is. Those were the days – the deserving, the unsuspecting, and the brother."

"You pranked Mycroft?" John asks, extremely amused.

"After our introduction? Of course I did."

"Don't tell me," John says dryly, "he kidnapped you to ask of your intentions towards Sherlock."

"Just before math as well. I was late and the Professor was awful. He didn't even have the decency to write me a note!" Victor sounds outraged.

John nods thoughtfully. "Personally I've always thought of it as a rite of passage. You think you can handle one Holmes? Well here's another."

Victor laughs. "Good Lord, can you imagine if there were more of them?"

John gives a shudder before he laughs. "If I don't want to imagine the Christmas dinner with just two siblings, I most definitely don't want to imagine it with more."

"That is nightmare inducing," Victor agrees, "Who knows what that one would do."

"Well if one is a detective and the other is the British government, I would have to say a third would either run MI6 or be a criminal mastermind."

Victor nods seriously. "I agree. Better stick with just two."

They look at each other and break down into hopeless giggling. Oh yes, this is going to be a good day.


End file.
